


Rude and Stubborn

by undernightlight



Series: Gays in Space [5]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Culmets - Freeform, First Meetings, Love at First Sight, M/M, SpaceBoos, alpha centauri meeting, cute af, kasseelian opera, rude start, sweeties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 05:32:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13404501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undernightlight/pseuds/undernightlight
Summary: Paul gets kicked out of his own home, for gods sake, what is he supposed to do? Though, he definitely didn't think he'd meet someone so...stubborn.First Meetings





	Rude and Stubborn

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed writing this one, and I'd love to write more about their relationship before being assigned on the Discovery. Enjoy!

He sat there, with his PADD and a very grumpy expression, though that was just his normal face. Paul had somehow been convinced by his friend, his only friend, to leave the building, to go outside and breathe. He didn't know how he was convinced, but it probably had something to do with the fact that Straal had physically kicked him out of the apartment without his keys, then locked him out, saying he wouldn't let him back for the next few hours. At least he'd been kicked out with his work in hand, so he continue to bury himself into that instead of socialising, something he didn't find the point in, and therefore was not very fond of.

Why he had to be stationed here he did not know. Of all placed to be stationed, they send him to Alpha Centauri, a tropical planet that generally attracts tourists and people and noise, and therefore attracts annoyance. He got burnt easy, so they sent him to a place where half an hour in the sun would turn him into a walking stop sign without sun protectant. So far, only the bridge of his nose had caught the sun, because putting on sunscreen while wearing glasses means you miss that spot, but the glasses are no match for their goddamn sun.

He'd also somehow been convinced to wear a floral shirt, again, without knowing how. So yes, maybe Strall did hide all of his shirts, leaving only one of his own in Paul's wardrobe; a hideous blue button up, covered generously in flowers of yellow and white petals and vibrant green leaves. He was also left a plain white t-shirt, how kind, and tan coloured chinos; at least Strall wasn't cruel enough to make him wear shorts. So after being kicked out of his own home with a satchel containing some money, sun cream and prescription shades, Paul sulked around for awhile, before hiding himself indoors to prevent from sweating to death in the centre of city.

So he found himself somewhere quiet to sit, a cross between a quaint cafe and a tiki bar, and something cold to drink. And he sat with his PADD, reading through his and Straal's notes from their last batch of mycelial experiments. He didn't mind being out so much, but he wouldn't tell Straal that, or he'd be forced outside more often, and he really didn't like people.

He wiped his glasses on the corner of the patterned shirt, pulling the corner up from his lap to the lenses. He'd left the shirt unbuttoned, as Straal was a thinner, lankier man with smaller shirts, and that was ideal to keep his glasses clean; thank god for that white t-shirt he was left. He rubbed his eyes too, setting his glasses on the table. As he raised them back to his face, he heard some distance, off key humming. Except, it wasn't off key, it was Kasseelian opera, which made it much, much worse. And except it wasn't distant; it came from three tabled to his right, from a young man with short clipped hair. He set his glasses on his nose when he looked over to the stranger.

The man was maybe around his age, he couldn't tell, with dark hair and skin. He had, what Paul assumed, was a beard, or at least the beginning of one, as it was mainly dark stubble needing a shave. This man seemed much more content it hot weather, with shorts, sandals and a maroon t-shirt. He was reading something too while he was humming, and it seemed to be getting louder, though Paul couldn't tell if it was just him or if the man was actually louder.

"Yeah," he called out to the man, who looked around before seeing Paul and making eye contact, "Do you mind?"

"Hmm?" Seemingly unaware of anything he was doing wrong.

"Humming."

"Oh, I don't mind at all," and he continued to read, and also to hum, and this time Paul was convinced he was definitely louder than before.

"That isn't what I meant. And you can't hum Kasseelian opera."

"Clearly you can if it's recognisable." The man sent a smile his way, one he did not return.

"Shut up with the humming or find somewhere else to sit." Paul continued to stare the guy down, curious to know what the man would do. Slowly, the man picked up his PADD and his drink, and stood. Paul turned back to his work, thanking whoever that the awful humming had stopped, when seconds later the chair opposite him dragged across the floor, and he looked up to see the stranger setting his PADD on the table and his drink on a coaster, before seating himself on the chair.

Paul stared at this guy, who looked at him with clear and suspiciously innocent eyes, and said, "I've stopped humming and I moved, so you really can't complain." Paul didn't respond, just went back to his notes. Maybe, he thought, if he ignored him, he'd go away, like a cat.

"Not a people person?" He glanced up when the question was directed to him.

"No," he replied, "And I'm not a you person either," and he turned his attention back to his PADD.

"That's hardly fair seeing as you don't even know my name yet."

"And your name is...?"

"I can't tell you that, because then you'd shoo me away."

"I'm trying that now and being unsuccessful." Paul's tone remained flat, dead, no hint of sarcasm or humour, hoping that he'd get the hint and leave him alone. No such luck.

"Very true. I'm Hugh." Hugh held out his hand across the table, and despite his better judgment, Paul found himself shaking the guy's hand.

"Paul," he said.

"Nice to meet you Paul." Paul didn't return the compliment, but nodded his head. He wasn't going to say it if he didn't mean it.

"Reading anything interesting?"

"Notes from my experiments."

"What is it you do?"

"I'm an astromycologist."

"So you study space mushrooms?"

"Yes. I'm surprised you knew what that meant."

"I'm more than just a pretty face you know." Paul somehow found it within himself to chuckle at the comments, but tried to turn back to his work, though it seemed Hugh had other ideas; he took the PADD from Paul's hands and set it on his lap. Paul, understandably, was confused, and tried to scramble for it before it was out of his reach, the proceeded to just stare at Hugh, who, annoyingly, just smiled back.

"Are you always this agitating?" Paul asked.

"Only to the pretty mushroom scientists I meet in cafes. Are you always this rude to strangers?"

Paul went to reply with something witty, but he had nothing. He just opened his mouth, then closed it again, somewhat resembling a fish. "Yes," was the answer he finally settled on, because yeah, he was always this rude. And he wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon.

"Well it's a good thing I'm not a stranger then, isn't it?" Paul, again, found himself chuckling, despite his better judgement. Maybe this guy had some sort of contagious laughing disease. Yeah, that sounds about right. At that point a waiter made their way over to the table, pen and paper in hand.

"Is there anything I can get the two of you?" They asked. Paul turned to decline, when Hugh jumped in before he got the chance.

"Two coffees and portion of fries please." They wrote the order down, smiled and said they'd be back with the order soon. As the waiter began to walk away, Paul watched them eye Hugh up and down, clearly interested, and that caused him to scoff. Hugh turned, trying to follow his eye line, but his eyes only met with the legs of a bar stool, but Paul had a very strange expression on his face, a cross between confusion and jealousy, a face he'd seen worn by many, so he had an idea of what he'd missed.

"It's so kind of you to care, but no need to worry, I'm only interested in you." Paul turned his attention back, not realising he'd been staring, and became rather embarrassed that he'd been caught. But he wasn't jealous. Why would he be jealous? For all he could care the waiter could have him. "You're quite pale," Hugh randomly commented.

"Thanks, I hadn't noticed." Now there was sarcasm in his tone.

"It means it's very obvious when you blush." Paul's eye widened, eyebrows skyward and jaw clenched, embarrassed again, which probably didn't help his case. That wasn't something he'd noticed before, but now would be incredible aware of. "I didn't say it was a bad think. I think it's rather fetching on you." Paul laughed, not chuckled, but laughed, grinning and smiling, shoulder shaking. His hand covered his eyes, elbow leaning on the table. "Did I say something funny?" Hugh asked.

"No, no, nothing like that." He pulled his face away from his palm, still smiling, and folding his arms against the table. So maybe, maybe, Paul found this guy kind of attractive, so he decided, since he was still locked out of his own home, that sure, let's not be dick and actually talk to the guy. "So, what it is you do?"

"I'm a doctor with Starfleet. I'm stationed here for a year working at the hospital, getting experience before heading out into the great unknown."

"Sounds interesting. You like working here?" Paul had never been a fan of doctors; ever since he was young he'd had a distrusting of them, and he wasn't sure why. They always seemed too...clinical, unapproachable. When he thought about it, he probably should've liked them for that. Doctors practices always made him anxious too, claustrophobic even, but Hugh was nice, so he'd push aside that initial twist in his stomach.

"Yeah, it's fun, but definitely has those days where you wished you were anywhere but there. Gets busy too, but I suppose that comes with the package."

"I always wish I was anywhere but here. I burn like paper in the sun, and they send me to a tropical planet where it gets dark for about two hours a day."

"Today's an exception."

"What?" Paul unsure what he was referring to.

"You said that you always wish to be anywhere else, but today is an exception." Hugh winking, and sighing, the mycologist smiled back. Damn, this guy was laying it on thick, but, somehow, Paul didn't seem to mind it. Maybe he'd been brainwashed. Or poisoned.

The waiter, the same one as before, arrived and placed two cups of coffee on the table, as well as a bowl of sugar and a creamer of milk. They smiled, two very different smiles, one at Paul and one at Hugh, before they said their fries would be arriving shortly, and then leaving. Hugh smiled back warmly at the waiter, but Paul just glared like his life depended on it.

"You're also very cute when you're angry."

"I'm not angry." He came to his own defence a little too fast to make it sound believable, that he wasn't angry or jealous or feeling the need to tell that waiter to get one of their own, but instead he came off exactly like that. Hugh just smiled; he was a very smiley person, Paul noted, but he wasn't, though he seemed to be smiling a lot today...right, brainwashed.

"So what do you do for fun around here Paul?"

"I don't."

"You must do something for fun."

"I sit in my lab and run mushroom experiments. That's as fun as it gets for me. I don't go out or do any of that stuff."

"You're out now."

"Only because I was forcibly kicked from my apartment by my roommate, yeah. He says I need to get out more, socialise and that."

"Then I must thank him."

Paul just rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You're that sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"Well, it's working isn't it?" And Paul didn't respond because it was. He just wanted to work in peace and instead, somehow, wound up being flirted with by a guy who enjoyed Kasseelian opera far more than he should, but oh well, plans often get interrupted, he's just usually more stubborn when it came to his plans being the ones interrupted.

Their fries arrived, though a different waiter this time, who just placed them on the table and scuttled away without a word spoken. Hugh called a thanks, and Paul just nodded when the waiter turned back to see if it was them that was being shouted. Hugh didn't waste any time, diving straight in for the longest fry he could find. Paul went in too, picking around and finding the smaller crispier fries of the bunch and eating those. And they continued to talk while they ate. Hugh talked a little more about his work at the hospital and Paul went more in depth about his experiments, and what it was he was actually doing. And they ate slowly, taking long breaks between mouth fulls to talk and to listen to each other, and they both smiled the entire time. Hugh spoke so passionately about everything he did, and Paul found that an attractive quality, and Paul slowly talked more about himself, what things he liked and what things he didn't, and Hugh found that sweet, and it made him smile more thinking about it.

After they finished and Hugh paid, much to Paul's annoyance, but he'd insisted since he was the one to order the food in the first place, they left the restaurant, and Hugh suggested they go talk a walk, and though Paul didn't like the beating sun, he found that he couldn't say no. So after they gathered their things, Paul picking up his bag and put his PADD inside which Hugh so kindly returned, they left and just wandered aimlessly, talking, walking so close that their hands often brushed against each other and their shoulders bumped. Paul was convinced that Hugh would be able to see his face blush ever slightly when their skin came in contact, but if he did, he never mentioned it, and Paul was glad for that.

It was after about half an hour of walking around before their hands remained clasped together. Hugh was waiting for any sign from Paul that it'd be acceptable, but he didn't give away too many signs, only his face heating when their hands grazed each other, so Hugh brushed the tips of his fingers on the back of Paul's hand and down his digits with gentle care and ease, Paul not resisting against the movement. Hugh twisted his hand around and laced his fingers within Pauls, earning a happy little sigh and a flush of colour from the astromycologist. But neither of them said anything for a while, just enjoying silence as they walked together.

"I don't normally do this sort of thing," Paul commented after awhile.

"Do what?"

"This." Paul stroked the back of Hugh's hand with his thumb, making tiny rotations against his skin as he smiled, still looking ahead, and Hugh understood what he meant, because despite his confident flirting off the bat, he didn't flirt often, and not really with people he just met, but Paul seemed different somehow. He was incredibly rude straight away, which was also incredibly hot Hugh decided, but...Hugh didn't know what it was that first intrigued him, but he was glad he was intrigued by something. And he smiled.

"I'm glad to be the exception." The pads of Paul's fingers were softer than Hugh would've guess, as he continued to move his thumb across his knuckles. His hands were cold, but it helps combat the warm, humid weather outside. Paul enjoyed feeling the bumps and ridges of Hugh's knuckles against his fingers, and liking how his hand seemed to be totally engulfed in Hugh's larger ones. And he smiled.

They continued to walk around, hands clasped and fingers entwined, not even really talking. They'd make comments to each other, a conversation that would last a few seconds, then silence, but neither minded. Paul had always been comfortable in the quiet; Straal wasn't, not if it was awkward for him, which was most of the time, so to be able to be in company, because he didn't always like being alone, and being able to enjoy peace, the sound of breathing, with somebody that seemed to understand that liking of silence was refreshing.

He didn't know how long they'd been walking around, but their quiet was broken by a beeping coming from inside his satchel. He pulled his hand out of Hugh's grasp, though reluctant, and pulled his PADD out. It was Straal, sending him a message of concern:

Hey...are you alright? I expected you to be banging on the door after thirty minutes. You better not be dead, how am I supposed to explain that to Starfleet? Answer me asshole.

"Sorry, my roommate; he's concerned I've died." He started typing in a message to respond as Hugh just chuckled.

I'm fine, not dead, just got side tracked. I'll be back soon.

Hugh looked over his shoulder as he typed. "I'm glad I was able to side track you away from that work of yours." Paul turned suddenly, startled, not sensing his presence so close behind him until he heard his voice.

"So am I," he said, "but I have to go before my friend has a nervous breakdown about how long I've out of the house."

"Shame, I was having a rather nice time."

"Me too." Paul smiled, chuckled, forgetting temporarily that he wasn't some teenager again, and being this smitten with a guy he'd just met was ridiculous, but he couldn't seem to help himself. Somehow, this man's pure determination and stubbornness had worn him down, but then again, maybe it wasn't that hard to; people just didn't really stick around long enough to try.

"Pass me your PADD," and Paul obliged. Hugh began typing something into his PADD, and he just let him do it. After a moment or so, it was handed back to him. "My number's in there. Send me a message if you want to do this again sometime."

"What, you hum terrible Kasseelian opera and me tell you to fuck off?"

"If you want, but I was thinking more along the lines of dinner." Paul chuckled again.

"I think I could manage that."

Hugh leaned in, placed a gentle kiss on Paul's cheek and smiled. "I'll see you soon then," before he turned and left, leaving Paul smiled like an idiot. It had been a while since he'd felt this...he didn't know how to describe it, as he watched the doctor walk away, PADD awkwardly tucked into his back pocket. Paul swivelled on his heel and headed in the direction of his apartment, just dreading the interrogation when he walked through the door.


End file.
